Russian Doomsday Read online

  Moscow, Russia, 30 September 2018

  Dina sat in her office, busy with her paperwork. She was also making notes on a colorful sticky note pad. She used different colors for each note. They were innocuous notes, but in the correct color order there was a message to be passed along to her handler. Each day was a different color combination. She crumpled the notes up and tossed them into the trash.

  That was all she did. The janitor took the trash. She didn’t know what happened to the notes. She didn’t know who collected them or who read them. There were no electronics to be monitored. She knew everyone at work was watched and monitored.

  She’d been given code words and different numeric combinations that would later be broken into intel that would be passed along up the food chain. All these codes had been memorized, so there was nothing written down to indicate they were codes.

  She also had doodles that were codes, but those were to be used on different days of the week. Once more, all memorized, nothing tangible to lead back to her. Her instructor had pounded it into her head that any link to the United States would kill her. But before that, her interrogators would torture her. Dina kept that thought upper most in her mind. She was smart, and she was careful.

  It was simple and very innocuous, and she felt safe. She wrote notes every day, even when she didn’t have messages to pass along, she just made sure the intel color combos weren’t used. This way, the trash was always full of colorful note papers. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to look at. She was sure someone went through all the trash at the facility. Everything was looked at, but she made sure she was consistent.

  Borin had mentioned casually that he was having a meeting with Orlov in three days. She’d acted very impressed that he was so well thought of to see Orlov. He’d made love to her twice after that, so she knew he was telling her the truth. When he fed her false information, he never made love to her more than once, and left shortly after.

  He was becoming easy to read. When he felt powerful and proud of an achievement, and she recognized that achievement, he was very randy. When he was telling her false information, his ego was left out of the equation. It was his way of testing her, she guessed. She never passed along anything he said at those times.

  Today she was passing on news of the impending meeting. It was up to the geeks to figure out what she’d written and how to act upon the intel she passed along. She was never to act on any of the intel; that wasn’t her job. Her job was only to gather intel and pass it along. She was glad. She didn’t want that responsibility. This was dangerous work. She hadn’t known that as a teenager, but she knew it now and was cautious.

  Once more, she wondered at the American agents who’d suckered her in. They had done this to a child. They had suckered her in without a thought to her life or future. She was simply a means to an end. She’d been so foolish and idealistic. After a few years, she’d learned that she was merely a tool. It was a hard pill to swallow sometimes. Sometimes she felt trapped, as if she wasn’t really living her own life. She was living a life for another country.

  She wondered where she would have been today if she’d not met the young American, Gregg Green. She certainly wouldn’t be putting her life at risk every day, that was for sure. She knew they’d disavow her in a split second. She knew, also, that she’d never be safe. She thought perhaps, once this mission was over, she would simply disappear.

  She was tired of working as a spy, tired of living someone else’s idea of a life. It would only take one careless move on her part and it would be all over. For now, however, she’d do her job. She had no other choice. But she would disappear, she promised herself, and live her own life her way.

  Borin was becoming generous. He’d given her a pair of diamond earrings the previous evening, for which she’d thanked him with her body. Very pretty and tasteful.

  Dina was careful. She never acted nor spoke vulgarly. Men tended to treat woman as they portrayed themselves. No man would tell his secrets to a contemptable tramp, and certainly no man in power. She was also very submissive and ultra-feminine.

  It was her job to make him feel extremely masculine, and, therefore, able to share small secrets to impress her. She’d been taught all this. She’d been taught how to seduce a man or woman. She’d also been taught about sex and how to perform sex. She’d been well educated, and once more she wondered at her stupidity as an ignorant teen.

  She’d been gulled into this by the Americans. She wondered if those agents were even alive still. She’d love to tell them now what she thought of their underhanded actions toward a young girl. Using her love and emotions for a boy to manipulate her. She’d tell them that they should be ashamed. She knew that would never happen, but she could always dream.

  To date, there really hadn’t been a lot to pass along. But she had no timetable, no deadline. Only that she was to report anything she learned. If she came across intel during the course of her day, she passed that along as well. Knowing Borin was going to a meeting, she’d kept an eye on the memos that flew back and forth across her computer all day. She didn’t know how long she’d be at this assignment; it could be months, or years.

  She’d been told that if it took ten years, then she’d be with him for ten years. She had already given a big chunk of her life to the United States. There were no retirement plans for a spy. Once more, she thought of disappearing. Perhaps she would start now. She had the earrings, which she could get a nice sum for. That would have to wait, however.

  She hoped it wouldn’t take ten years. She didn’t know if she could stay with the man that long. She knew that, when he grew tired of her, she’d be gone, from the job and out of the company. She’d get new orders, but by then she’d have a plan in mind. She’d need a fake passport with a new identity. She knew of several people who dealt with that. She’d look into that. She also needed to move money around, have emergency cash on hand.

  She’d think on it and start her planning. She was done being used. Perhaps she would leave before this assignment was done, not wait until its conclusion.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Maryville, MO, 18 October 2018

  Margo was tired. At work they were pulling in all the boats and locking up most of the tourist accesses. She had part-time help now; most of the workers in the summer were high school students. But the season was closing for the lake and soon all would be quiet. She would then go to the office, and shift gears, working as a travel agent. She didn’t mind working indoors, and it gave her a chance to get off at a normal hour.

  She fed the chickens, who acted like they were starving. The little bantam hen had hatched out three chicks, the other eggs hadn’t developed, and the chicks were scratching alongside their mother. She smiled as she watched them. They made her feel peaceful.

  She looked out over the lake. The leaves had turned, brilliant oranges, reds, golds, and yellows. The air was crisp with a hint of winter and woodsmoke. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the late sun, its warmth caressing her face. A delicious shiver race through her body. This was her favorite time of the year.

  She watched as the trees rained leaves when the breeze picked up, following their lazy circling descent to the ground, where they were piling up. She’d thought about raking them but had decided not to. It was useless work and a waste of energy. She’d rather let them rot and fertilize the ground and the trees.

  The lake was quiet now, and she’d never before enjoyed such a peace here. Most of the tourists had gone, the first blush of autumn had past, and now the locals could enjoy the rest of the fall season before harsher weather intruded.

  She and Pike were becoming closer. They spent many evenings talking about the future. One evening, she’d been surprised when he’d admitted he was still a virgin – after several glasses of wine. She’d looked at him closely, closer than she’d done before. She’d been shocked. She’d figured that, like most young men, he’d have been out there trying to date and screw every woman he could find. Sh
e’d been approached many times when she’d been out with friends. That’s just guys.

  He was a good-looking man, tall, and broad across the shoulders. And he’d gained muscle and weight since coming here. He was doing a lot of outdoor work, getting the place ready for the possible end of days. He had been letting his hair grow longer. His hair was dark brown, but now had lighter streaks from being out in the sun, like her own. He looked like a taller, broader version of Joseph Gordon Levitt, only with a beard and long hair.

  He usually kept his hair in a neat low ponytail, though she liked it when he let it hang loose at the end of the day. She knew when he was frustrated because he tended to pull at his hair. He had strong features, blocky eyebrows, a straight nose, and full lips. Handsome indeed. Once more, she examined her feelings for him.

  The imminent threat of POSEIDON had passed, and now they were working to prepare further. The frantic rush had slowed down with so many things accomplished. Each day they went to their jobs, and then, when home, they had their chores. They were friends and housemates.

  Pike was still a geek, watching horrible SyFy movies. She usually fell asleep on the couch while he watched. But now that they were at the cabin, they were beginning to grow out of the need for electronics and had begun to shift ever so subtly toward the land and its rhythms. All of their off time was spent outside, working and prepping.

  Pike had become very handy, and spent at least one to two hours a day splitting firewood. They’d also had a cord of wood delivered. Once they’d got that split to the size they wanted and stacked it, they’d ordered another. She had tried her hand at splitting wood and found it was a lot of hard work. Pike made it look easy, but it really wasn’t. He had real strength behind the swings that usually split the wood in one strike.

  Most of their time was spent doing hard physical work. They’d dug up and tilled up the garden by hand. They’d bought nightcrawlers and laced the garden area with them. Come the spring, the ground should be richer. They planned to shovel the chicken poop from the coop into the garden before snowfall.

  They had also begun to fill up thirty-gallon plastic containers with soil. They’d fill an old rusted wheelbarrow, take it to the container located deep in their woods, and fill it. It took time, but they had seven containers out there, two hundred gallons of rich, safe soil with worms. They’d cut dime-sized holes into the bottoms of the containers, though they didn’t know if that would help keep the worms alive.

  There were endless lists to complete, but they were slowly checking off item they felt they needed or needed to do. Pike was her constant companion, and they had quiet times and chatty times. She noticed that he sat closer to her on the couch now, at times touching her hand or patting her back. She smiled gently. She’d always known he’d had a crush on her, and she knew now that he loved her.

  But now, she thought, perhaps she was falling in love with him. She knew she had to make the first move. He’d never dare.

  It was funny. She’d never thought of him as anything other than as a friend. But the more she got to know him, the more she cared about him and liked him. She really liked the man he’d become. He made her feel safe and cared for. She wasn’t used to making the first move, though. It just wasn’t her way. Who knew. She might just change that for him. She grinned, hearing his truck. Maybe soon.

  ҉

  Pike pulled up the long drive toward the cabin. He liked that the cabin was set back from the road. The driveway formed a double S curve, winding through the evergreens and broadleaf trees on either side, and thickets of honeysuckle and wild grapes, their vines climbing trees, their flowers peeking out, their scent filling the air.

  Most of the flowers were gone now, but the thickets where high, nearly eight feet. There had been some grapes and he and Margo had eaten their fill, then left the rest for the wildlife. The dense growth made for great camouflage.

  Even after living here for a while now, he felt so lucky and excited whenever he drove down the drive. This was his home, or rather, their home. He’d never in a million years dreamed that he’d be living off grid in a log cabin, or and doing the hard work that he was doing.

  When he pulled up to the cabin, he grinned. Margo was sitting on the steps. He got out and walked up. He didn’t know why he did it, but he kissed her on the top of her head. She grinned up at him. Binx was asleep on his back in a sunny part of the yard. The dog simply opened one eye. Seeing Pike, he closed, resuming his nap.

  “How about we go fishing? I think I’d like a good old-fashioned fish fry,” Pike asked, his tan face relaxed.

  “That is a damn fine idea,” Margo announced, and got up.

  Going into the cabin, they changed from their work clothes and headed to the barn, where they kept their rods and tackle box. Pike had taught Margo how to fish. She’d been excited when she’d caught her first small bass. They’d thrown it back, but then she’d caught a nine-inch bass and they’d eaten that.

  Going down to the lake’s shore, they set up two camp chairs with their tackle box between. Casting out, they sat down in their chairs to wait, their long legs stretched out in front of them.

  “Have you thought about what I asked, with regard to Sayer and Joy? About having them come and live here with us?” Pike asked.

  “I have thought. I really like them. I think that if things get bad, and I mean really bad, they may not have a choice but to come here.”

  They’d visited the small farm. It was in a good location, but very close to Lincoln’s city limits. There was also a large subdivision two miles from their farmhouse. The city was spreading out, and other farms nearby were being gobbled up by developers and urban sprawl.

  “They’ve got a nice setup, I have to say,” Pike said, referring to the bunker-like structure they’d built in the basement.

  “It is nice, but I worry that if someone were to burn the house, they’d be trapped,” Margo said, her brows creased.

  “Yeah. Trying to figure out the best strategy for staying safe isn’t easy. There is so much open land there with all the pastures and so on. That farm is easy to see, like a big-ass target,” Pike said, frustration lacing his voice.

  He felt Margo’s hand patting his arm and looked over at her. His heart flipped in his chest. He grinned, his face turning bright pink. He placed his larger hand over hers and patted it back. Then she jerked from him and he was surprised, until he saw her grab her rod tightly.

  She squealed excitedly, “I got one, I got a fish!” She stood, walking toward the shore.

  Pike got up and got the net as Margo began to reel the fish in. A large splash caused Margo to squeal once again. She was reeling in the fish as fast as she could, walking back and forth along the shore. As she did so.

  “It’s huge! I have a monster fish, this is sooo cool,” she said, hopping around the shore, her arm a piston as she reeled the fighting fish in.

  Pike waded in, and as the fish came in, he dipped the net beneath it and pulled it up. It was a big one, at least sixteen inches, and heavy. They’d eat well.

  “You’ve become one hell of a fisherwoman. That is a big-ass fish, Margo. I don’t think I’ve seen any as big as this, at least, not in a lake,” Pike grinned, his dark brows waggling.

  “Wow, I can’t believe I caught that. It’s beautiful,” she said, her eyes turning a deep green.

  Pike took a small mallet and struck the fish on the head, then laid it up on the bank. He went back and picked up his fishing rod and reeled his line in. He cast out once more, and watched as Margo did the same. Together they sat back down in the chairs and watched the lines expectantly. A loon called from far away, its song echoing along the lake’s rippling water.

  “I almost want to say that we should have them start moving their supplies here,” Margo said, picking up their earlier conversation. “Then, if anything happens, they can come here immediately. Do you think they’d do it?”

  “I can talk to Sayer. Maybe we should also each have a bugout bag, to make sure can
we get home fast and safe. I don’t know where I’d be, especially if I’m showing houses. You at least know you’d only be a few miles from here and could get here quickly enough.

  “I’d say we’d have maybe a few hours before things started getting rowdy. We’re the ones who’re preparing, and will be hyper-aware of anything that goes sideways. Others probably won’t know what’s happening at first. It’ll be a small window of opportunity to get back here safely,” Pike said, reeling his line back and recasting.

  “Joy has the old Ford that is pre-1978. It should run if there is an EMP. I’m sure they could make their way here; it’s only a two-hour drive.

  “That’s only if they don’t encounter trouble on the way. There will be a lot of cars that will have stalled out. And what if their truck doesn’t work?” Margo nibbled at her lower lip. Pike had a hard time keeping his eyes from her mouth.

  “When they come over Saturday for the BBQ, let’s talk to them and see what they say,” Margo said, reeling in. She cast out again, copying Pike. He grinned softly. She caught on fast.

  Later they sat at the large table eating their fried fish. Pike thought it was some of the best fish he’d ever eaten. He liked catching his own food, and thought he’d like growing it too. They had started buying potting soil, pods, planting cups and all the things that were on sale due to it being the end of the season. They’d read a lot and gone over their plans. They wanted to plant a double garden: plant the first one and wait about three weeks, then plant more. They hoped that it would give them a higher yield so they could eat their produce and can it. They had even practiced, buying beef on sale. They’d gotten a great deal at the butcher shop for ten pounds of under-blade steak from the shoulder. They had cut the beef into cubes and put it into pint jars. Margo had then added a little canning salt and some pepper. Then they had put the jars in the pressure canner and cooked them for a little over an hour.